


Vitality

by unwindmyself



Series: curious shapes shift in the dark [43]
Category: True Blood
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Companionable Snark, F/F, Femslash, Fix-It, Gen, Life-Affirming Sex, Tribadism, agency and choices!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It figures that Pam and Tara can't really do feelings without a healthy dash of sarcasm, but after near-death experiences, feelings just really need to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vitality

**Author's Note:**

> Part one, "Biting Down."

Everyone is quiet the whole ride back to Merlotte’s, Sookie taking the girls in one of the vans (Charlaine takes on the job of texting Nicole about the fact that everyone got out okay, Danika does the same for Luna just in case the others haven’t made it back yet and learns that they have, but thank you for making sure we knew that’s good of you, then all four of them promptly pass out on each other’s shoulders) and Jason driving Sam (who also texts Luna, of course) and all the vampires cramming into the last.

Jessica winds up driving, which is something of a disaster considering she’s never even technically had a license, but now that she doesn’t have silver being pressed into her open wounds she’s actually the least emotional of the bunch so it makes the most sense; Pam and Tara are in the middle seat and they haven’t dropped hands since the governor’s office; the back seat is Willa and Nora and Eric, in that order, and poor Willa hasn’t stopped crying (she’d been prepared to kill her human dad and she’d been prepared to see, like, Eric kill her human dad, but somehow she hadn’t been prepared to see her human dad get his brains blown out by a stranger – it makes sense, though, he’d have had a contingency so he didn’t get killed by a freaking vamper or something) so it’s not terribly surprising that she’s got her head in Nora’s lap as she does (Nora doesn’t even look uncomfortable as she pulls the elastic from her niece’s hair and attempts to pet her all soothingly) and given everything, it’s also not surprising that Nora’s other hand is resting on Eric’s thigh and his arm is draped over her shoulder possessively.

The debriefing doesn’t take long, and Lafayette finds clean dishtowels that everyone can use to clean themselves up; they agree to discuss what comes next tomorrow night, because right now everyone is too exhausted and it’s getting much too early into the morning. The baby fairies have never pulled an all-nighter before, the baby vampires are starting to wilt, they can’t hope to do anything more till everyone’s properly rested and recovered.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, that’s disgustingly cute,” Pam rolls her eyes. By the time they park back at the house, it’s close enough to sunrise that the babies are all but passed out already, and while she herself is dragging Tara along gently as she can and Nora is doing the same for Jessica (who, given her slightly advanced age, is the most functional of the young ones, but only just) Eric is carrying Willa in and down the stairs in his arms like – well, like a dad with his little daughter who fell asleep on the car ride home.

“I carried you like this more than once,” Eric points out.

“Sounds sweet,” Tara mumbles, smiling mischievously.

“Shush,” Pam retorts. “Don’t make me glare menacingly at the both of you.”

“Children, behave,” Nora drawls, opening the door to Jessica’s room. Jessica herself is too busy already starting to strip, just jacket and shoes so far but it would still be better done behind closed doors, so Nora’s quick to usher her in.

“Be thankful I don’t take pleasure in being one of those fathers who tells the most embarrassing stories in front of your girlfriend,” Eric declares, and in the blink of an eye, he’s made for Willa’s door and they’ve disappeared inside.

Sometime in the course of this little bit of banter, Tara’s slumped against the bedroom door, leaning heavily, and Pam sighs to see it. The important stuff can wait till tomorrow night comes and they've actually managed to get some rest.

 

* * *

 

There was a time, Tara knows, when Pam slept in tracksuits or some pared-down version of what she’d had on that day. (There was also a time that Pam slept in a fucking quilted pink coffin in a dank basement, which was something Tara always had questions about – the location, not the coffin itself - but there you go.) When Tara rolls over the next night and opens her eyes to the sight of Pam laid out in this almost bridal-looking not-quite-corset thing, her hair curled and fanned out over her pillow, she’s very thankful that the tracksuits have been all but abandoned since they started sharing a bed.

And either her moving around wakes Pam or she’s been awake a while and she was just hoping to play Sleeping Beauty, because after a few seconds she murmurs, “Well, good evening.”

“Back atcha,” Tara replies, her voice low like she doesn’t want to disturb anyone else even though they’re alone and the soundproofing definitely does work.

“We need to talk about something,” Pam says, and by now her eyes have opened but she’s staring up at the ceiling instead of at Tara.

Those aren’t words that Tara loves to hear (is there anyone who loves to hear them, though, really?) but if Pam was pissed about something, it would look different on her face, so the only thing Tara says in return is, “It can’t wait?”

“It sure as fuck can’t,” Pam shoots back, and suddenly she’s moving to push Tara back flat against the bed and straddle one of her thighs. “This ain’t the first time we’ve been through all this near-death experience shit, you and I, and I’ve gotta say, I’m not wild about it.”

Tara props herself up on her elbows. “You’re shit outta luck, if that’s the case,” she retorts. “Seein’ as we still got an apocalypse to stop.”

“We do at that,” Pam agrees, letting her words draw out all honey-slow. “So I hope it doesn’t bother you that this is gonna be a regular occurrence.”

“This?” Tara echoes.

“Yeah, _this_ ,” Pam says, yanking Tara’s tank top off and grinding her hips all at once. (She’d taken the liberty of at least taking Tara’s pants, jacket, shoes, and jewelry off last night before they passed out completely; Tara can see a neat stack of items on the dresser, and it makes her smile.) “Like it or not, we’re kind of attached to each other now.”

Tara’s pretty sure she gets where this is going now, which would explain Pam’s lingerie and also Pam’s eagerness to get her down to _her_ lingerie. “You were worried about me,” she exclaims, almost laughing (of all the things about her life she wouldn’t have predicted a year ago, this is one of the most unbelievable). “You didn’t wanna watch me die. You, who…”

“Are you ever gonna get over that?” Pam chuckles, and before Tara can say anything she presses her knee right up against Tara’s sex, still covered by thin black panties.

“What do you think?” Tara asks, grinding her hips against Pam’s knee as best she can to feel that delicious friction. She doesn’t even cringe when Pam leans forward and places hands on her shoulder, pushing her flat again and pinning her in place.

“You’re a stubborn asshole, so I’m gonna go with no.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Guess I couldn’t have expected a more mature comeback from a baby.”

“It’s a good thing I know that insulting me is your way of being affectionate.”

Pam leans forward even more, practically folded over with her mouth millimeters from Tara’s ear. “Well, you’re _my_ baby and _my_ stubborn asshole, so I guess that explains it all.”

Neither of them talk after that, though Tara lets out more and more little whimpers as Pam grinds against her and as she teases lips against her throat and the more of those Tara makes, the more Pam responds in kind; they’re going nice and slow, but Tara manages to keep her hips moving against Pam’s knee and Pam manages to keep hers going against Tara’s thigh and they can feel the fabric of each other’s underthings growing damper the closer they get.

One of Tara’s hands grabs the edge of the mattress as an anchor, Pam doesn’t take hers off of Tara’s shoulders and she knows her fingernails are drawing blood from how tight she’s holding. They expect the others are already up and moving around, planning for the next who-the-fuck-knows, but right now, that’s irrelevant. All that matters is that neither of them are true-dead and both of them are here and they’re _close_ , so close, and –

It must be something about the Maker-progeny thing, Tara thinks, because she can’t think of a single time in her human life that she was able to come at the same time as her partner. (Not that the guys knew that, given her rather convincing fake orgasms, but still.)

“Shit,” she whispers once Pam’s moved back beside her, back to that boudoir-model pose but with a stupid grin on her face.

“You were good, too,” Pam replies beatifically.

Tara shifts to kiss her, hungry and noisy and completely uninhibited. “Oh, thanks,” she says sarcastically, but she’s grinning too, because that’s just how they do things.


End file.
